


Rigged!

by cheesiestart



Category: Original Work
Genre: Age of Sail, M/M, Pirates, Werewolves, werewolf pirates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-03-19 19:51:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3622140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheesiestart/pseuds/cheesiestart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a governor's son is kidnapped by pirates, he thinks there will be a ransom paid and that'll be it - but there's a lot more to this crew than meets the eye. Especially with their ridiculously handsome captain. </p><p>(Intended to be a lighthearted romance novel type fic but we'll see how serious it goes. mmm? I read a short story with this premise and was convinced I could do better)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which the Plot Begins

Javier woke with a start. Something had clanged loudly downstairs, and he heard hurried whispers and heavy footsteps. He moved out of under the silk bedsheets as quietly as possible.

 

Deeming it unwise to light a candle, he fumbled around the darkened bedroom to find his desk. The familiar path was treacherous and unyielding in the dark, so he gallantly stubbed his toe. To avoid crying out he pursed his lips together, mentally cursing. _Found the desk._

 

Holding one edge with his hand, he blindly groped around until he found his goal. A letter opener was a poor weapon, but it was better than being unarmed. At least it was a fine piece - the silver weight alone might tempt the worst of the thieves to leave peacefully. In a pinch the rubies on the hilt could serve to turn it into the most expensive club in the Spanish Main.

 

Javier made his way closer to the door, bare feet freezing on the tile floor. He listened carefully; the sound of his own breath seemed deafening. Downstairs there was movement and low murmurs, and he guessed that one thief was giving instructions to his fellow. A glass shattered, soon followed by a thief’s stream of muffled curses, and Javier jumped, goosebumps making the hair on his arms stand up.

 

Javier tightened his grip on the letter opener, willing himself to have courage.

 

Booted footsteps came up the stairs. From the sound of it, there were clearly more than two thieves, and he felt a sharp panic in his gut. Courage gone, he changed tactics and tiptoed to hide behind the heavy damask curtains, his heart in his throat.

 

Under the curtain it was too dark to see. The damask pattern wasn’t discernable, not even from a few inches away. There was so little distance his nose touched the fabric, breath too close and stifling. For a moment he held it, waiting for fresher air, and took shallow breaths, one hand over his mouth to try to stop his breath from shifting the curtain. Every muscle in his body was tense, and he thought he might snap when he heard the creak of the door swinging inward. His grip tightened on his flimsy excuse for a dagger, the intricate designs biting into his palm. Javier dimly wondered if any of the staff had been alerted yet - the broken glass alone should have alerted someone. For now it was better he remain hidden.

 

There was a murmur of instruction and the thieves began their work. The rasp of fabric. Precious metals rattling, no doubt cutlery pilfered from downstairs. The sound of the heavy oak drawers on his desk being rummaged through. Papers being shuffled. He heard a small _ping_ when someone yanked off a gold knob.

 

Footsteps came nearer to his hiding place, but turned sharply to the left and stopped. This thief must have been looking at something through the window - a voice gave another instruction, in English, and from this proximity, he made out that this voice belonged to a woman.

 

For several tense minutes the ransacking continued until, at her order, her cohorts exited the room, and Javier felt relief wash over him. The light clinks of metal on metal followed them out and the room was silent once more. But he wasn’t out of the woods yet - the thief hadn’t moved, and, to his horror, there was a step in his direction.

 

He held his breath, listening hard. Every heartbeat was too loud, and every muscle in his body tense. His eyes strained to see something, anything in the darkness. A shadow, a hint of movement -

 

Heavily muscled arms encircled him from the right, and his body went rigid, his arms pinned to his sides. He had focused all his attention to the thief at the left and utterly failed to realize she wasn’t alone.The fabric around his head tightened, and he gasped in surprise, breathing more of it into his mouth. He sputtered, and started thrashing from side to side, trying to loosen his captor’s iron grip. In retaliation they slammed him into the wall behind, and between the exertion and the fabric stuffed in his mouth, Javier had the wind knocked out of him. He couldn’t scream for help if he wanted to - hell, he couldn’t even breathe.

 

It was all he could do to hold on to the letter opener, but there was no way he could use it to defend himself or slice the curtain. Would it even be able to slice through the fabric? With his arms immobile, the only thing he could do with the knife was to stab his own thigh.

 

Not particularly helpful.

 

Javier wriggled about, legs flailing, trying to knee the assailant to his right, but without air he couldn’t move much and was exhausted.  A hoarse sound escaped his throat but he couldn’t get a breath.  Through the haze he heard the leader’s _“don’t let him smother….governor’s son…”_

 

The edges of his vision went dark red, and in desperation he gave a blind kick, connecting with his captor’s shin with a loud thud. A grunt of pain rumbled in his ear, and there was a thrill of hope in his belly. But all that stunt got him was a sound whack in the head from the leader. Javier knew no more.   

 

 

\--

Amazingly, Javier still possessed the letter opener; he felt it pressing uncomfortably against his thigh. As his other senses slowly returned, the second realization was that he was rocking; third, the smell of salt burned his nostrils. His head pounded. There was no sight to go by because his captors had him blindfolded, no movement because his wrists were tied behind, but he heard the peal of the alarm bell from the ramparts.The party must be beyond reach of the wharf.

 

 _Ah, well, better late than never._ Someone had finally realized the governor’s son was kidnapped. Even if it took for-damn-ever. This was of little comfort his current predicament. At least this time he was able to breathe. A better comfort.

 

 The bells grew more distant by the minute, as did his peace of mind. The only noise was the neverending low sound of waves, and the higher pitch of oars sluicing through the water. Rather than show them fear as his kidnappers took him God-knows-where, Javier put on an air of false bravado.

 

When he went to speak a cough came out instead, throat still sore. The weight of stares pressed upon his shoulders, making his confidence stutter.  Forcing his fear down, Javier beamed with what he hoped was a disarming expression and said “By any chance, does a member of my esteemed company speak Spanish?” A charged silence followed. Javier imagined the crew of the rowboat giving each other pointed looks. Before he tried a sentence in his inexpert English, one gave a stiff grunt of assent. That’s the man who gave me that lovely embrace earlier.

 

“Tell me friend,” he said cheerfully, turning in the direction he thought the answer came, “in what manner was I found out?” A long pause. Was his Spanish as good as Javier’s English?

 

“Smell,” the man said bluntly.

 

 _Smell? It’s not as if I’m wearing perfume._ Should he feel insulted? “Fascinating. And unexpected. Another kindness sir, if you would oblige me -- could I know our destination?”

 

“Ship,” he said.

 

“Ship,” Javier repeated, heart sinking. We could be going anywhere. “How far?” The crew must be better dressed than he. A pair of trousers and a nightie would not have been his first choice in nighttime seafaring. Not that he’d choose this venture at all, but the sooner he knew what he was in for, the better. Better than this dread of the unknown.

 

“Soon,” he said in a final tone. Javier took the cue not to ask any more, even though the man hadn’t answered his question. He didn’t want to know how far the ship _was_ , but rather how far the ship would be _going_.

 

Hopefully not too distant. The longer the delay, the easier his father’s men might track them down. The crew clearly knew who he was, and kept him alive. The logical assumption was that he would be a hostage for ransom. But at what price?

  
  
  



	2. Bondage Isn't That Sexy When You're Wet and Freezing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What it says on the tin.

It was a full hour before they reached the ship. By then Javier’s nightie had soaked completely through and coldly clung to his body like wet kelp. The wind and sea spray cut right through him, chilling him to the bone. Since his arms were bound behind him, he couldn’t even huddle properly against the wind.

Behind him there was a shuffle of boots and pressure on the back of his head. One of his hospitable companions relieved Javier of his blindfold. Javier muttered a thanks, barely audible over the roar of the waves, and got a first look at his hosts.

The four assembled could not be more different from each other. The gentleman that knocked him out was a hulking fellow with an impressive red beard and an unimpressed scowl. A thin black woman with thick braids was busy rummaging around in a bag of loot with long, elegant hands. The oars were operated by a small mousy lad with a shock of white-blonde hair. And finally, who he surmised to be the leader of the company, was a large older woman with an equally large tattoo on her chest. After looking at hers, Javier noticed each had a tattoo.

Tattoos were not an uncommon sight, especially around the docks, but these were quite odd. They shimmered like abalone, and though each was on a different place on his kidnappers, they were all of the same simple design - a wickedly curved crescent moon. The strange tattoos glittered all the more ominously by the lights of the four-masted barque that blocked all else out of view. The sky was lighter, but not light enough to see by - dawn was still a bit away. The ship had lanterns lit, and through their steady yellow glow Javier made out the figurehead, a snarling wolf. The same spray that rendered him shivering and vulnerable only made the wolf more intimidating, coloring the wood wet-black and sloshing rivulets of water through its teeth. 

Upon their approach, there was a flurry of activity aboard, the crew shouting orders and preparing to hoist up their little rowboat. As they drifted their way closer, Javier made out the name of the beast - his new prison _Romulus_ , proclaiming herself in peeling gold lettering.

The crew hoisted them up and the party smoothly disembarked the rowboat.The bearded man didn’t so much assist Javier down as throw a massive arm around his waist before unceremoniously dumping him on deck. His knees took the brunt of the impact, but Javier mercifully kept his balance and didn’t plant face-first on the boards. As he struggled up to stand, a task made difficult without the use of his hands, Javier looked around at the crew. At this early hour the deck was sparsely populated. There were a few mildly interested glances in his direction, but they mostly paid Javier no heed. The lamplight revealed a flash of silver through gaps in clothing. Each member also had one of those mysterious tattoos. _Is this some kind of cult?_

“Retrieve the captain,” the large woman ordered. The mousy boy scurried away to fetch him.   
All Javier could do was watch mulishly as they catalogued his things.


End file.
